I WISH IT WAS MEANT IN JEST
LIKE A ONE ARMED MAN JUGGLING AXES
Woke up this morning and reminded myself it was Sunday, my down day. So I got a cup of coffee, went about my ablutions, then stepped off to the kitchen. The lady who has been good enough to allow me to reside under her roof for thirty-eight years (Without bludgeoning me to death with a rock in my sleep) had expressed a desire for Mediterranean omelettes. In view of her tolerance and kindness, I felt it a small recompense.
The cooking done I perused the local paper and looked back on my week. Sixteen active short story submissions had become fifteen active submissions with the receipt of an email rejection. A problem easily rectified by finding another publication to inflict my warped world-view on. Another poetry submission sent out and a few more to pay attention to. First draft of another short story started, outlined in my head and only needs to be populated, put into a setting, the intricacies of human interaction given voice...etc.
Most of the week was consumed with the latest revision to my novel, EYES LIKE WALLS. Not going into which rewrite this is, suffice to say I've been at it since early August of last year. In the meantime, queries sent out or updated to the venues I've sent short stories to. Some of these are bumping up close to a year in the "Under Consideration" category. When you're pushing close to double the "Normal Response Time" you start fluctuating between wanting to buy a lottery ticket or gargle razor blades! Throw in agonizingly slow responses to inquires and you wonder what made you think writing fiction was a good idea?
Like I said - Today is supposed to be my fucking DAY OFF! But, in the middle of trying to shut it all down and read a book, I remembered I'd promised to be more timely in my blog posts. So here I sit, in the same chair I sit in pretty much six days a week, trying to be witty and creative while wondering if any one's reading these things besides me? (Something even I try to avoid except during the revision process.)
Anyway, tomorrow it's back to the title page of the novel and the start of another pass through that. Honestly, each time has gone quicker than the last and I've pretty much hammered out or body puttied over the more glaring wrinkles and dents. Now I'm down to the fine tuning and, this next phrase could be the hex, pretty happy with what I've got. 82,000 words in 44 chapters on 312 pages. All I have to do now as far as heavy lifting is concerned is send out the query letters and proposals to agents. But what's a couple of more hours a day at the keyboard?
Do me a favor once in a while? Go to the bottom of one of these posts and send me a reply. I won't sell you to the trolls of marketing, trust me. I would just like to know someone is reading this drivel and what your thoughts are. Thanks, Dane F. Baylis.